


A Dream of Spring

by The_Northern_Wolf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 06:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18310505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Northern_Wolf/pseuds/The_Northern_Wolf
Summary: A collection of one-shots by request





	1. Requests

One shots can consist of pretty much every type of relationship: F/M, F/F, M/M, multi etc. Also incest and age-gaps whatever. 

What I will do:

\- Fluff

\- Smut 

\- Angst (any warnings or ratings.)

\- Hurt/Comfort

\- AUs (any kind)

 

What I will NOT do:

\- Dirty talk and crap like that

\- Crossovers 

 

That's basically it. Honestly just request and you shall recieve. All ships are welcome, even if they are not listed in the tags yet. 

Also be patient. I have a life (I know surprising). I'll be doing requests based on what I want to write at the moment or by whoever requests first. 

Lastly let me know if you want credit for your prompt.

Ok I'm done now. 


	2. Bastards and Broken Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow x Mya Stone: instead of Ned's daughter and Robert's son, Robert remembers he had a daughter and Ned a spare son. 
> 
> Prompt by @Hydrobot

The day was young still, but it felt so long already. Words spoken from dry lips had made Jon uneasy, and at the very least, sick.

Marriage.

He was young, though that was hardly considered a factor when betrothals were made. But the words had been spoken, truthful in a way that made his guts tangle like writhing snakes. He wasn't sure if he had ever felt so sick, save for when he came down from an illness when he was a babe; though he remembered little of that.

"Jon?" It was Arya.

He stood overlooking the yard, watching as Robb sparred with the young Tommen Baratheon, Robert's fourth child. He was round and pudgy and worse with a sword than even little Rickon, but he was trying. Unaware however, that his older sister was to be wed to a legitimized bastard of the famed Ned Stark.

Arya looked trampled and tattered as was her usual, but there was a hint of fear creasing her eyes. It was remarkable how well she hid it; smiling as only she could whenever she was up to mischief. Jory used to love that little smirk, though he was one of the only people who knew when it was false. Jon saw it now, and it only made him feel worse.

He mussed her hair as she approached before grinning, his nerves pooling below where he couldnt see. _Weep later. Tears are not for little girls to see._

"Your.. betrothed?" She asked, making a face.

Jon nodded pensively, watching Robb's sword as it made a wide arc. It was wooden and blunt but it crashed into Tommen's side, knocking him to the ground where he promptly started to cry. Joffrey watched on with mock interest, but was far more intent with eyeing his sister, Sansa. He resented that but didn't try to stop it. _Let him be young; he will loose that incompetence soon enough._

Myrcella was nowhere to be seen, but he had spotted her in the halls that morning. The only one not present, engagingly, was Mya, Robert's eldest daughter. It was said she was a bastard, though legitimized like himself. It was plain to see, so folk had said, for her hair was dark and her eyes blue like Robert's, so unlike Cersei. It made him want to laugh and cry and drown himself in honey and tar. 

"Appears so," Jon replied.

Arya snorted before turning somber. "Does this mean you'll leave? To King's Landing? You'll stay right?"

He thought for a moment. "I will have to go. Remember what Father said? Mya's ill, how else am I to see my... _beloved."_

His sister giggled. "A bit early for that isn't it? Or have you already fallen in love with the name that much? _Mya._ Its not half bad," she winked. 

Jon felt slightly eased by her mockery, but also it put him in a strange line of thought. Would he ever love this girl? This Baratheon? He thought on it, well and deep. Ned seemed happy, despite his marriage set by his parents right after Brandon's death. Arranged as it was, he fought light of it, just as Catelyn had. Would that be the path he walked on? Would he smile and laugh for this Mya? Would he hold her hand and kiss her cheek and murmur in her ear?

Would he leave her with a glowing child?

He shivered.

 

***

 

The Baratheons were to depart two days later, and Jon was to follow. Arya and Sansa and Bran were promised along as well, though to Jon's utter shock and horror, Bran fell from a tower. It was so sudden it felt like a kick in the chest, but he still thought it queer. Bran was an expert climber, better than any other he had ever met. Granted that was few but it still seemed a mighty few. It set him and his sisters in a sour mood for the entire trip, and the wolves didn't help.

Lady, gone so quickly. That in itself was shocking and depressing, though Sansa's cries made it even worse. Nymeria ran off, and, to everyone's disgust, Ghost remained. The white wolf seemed to trail Jon through thick and thin, even when threats flew from lips as easily as wine from a keg. It made him worry but at the same time he knew the direwolf could survive it.

King's Landing was huge, bigger than even he could grasp. Made of blood-red brick it stood, herculean and massive along the Blackwater Bay. The river of the Blackwater Rush was cold to the look, fragments of summer ice hanging to the edges. But the smell of the city was what really made it stand out; dank and rancid. It was as if he stepped into a heated latrine.

He wrinkled his nose and Ghost hissed before bounding into the woods. _Ill be back when you leave,_ the wolf seemed to say.

The feast that night was bland to his taste, though ever rich. To his hate and annoyance Mya still did not show. He made a play of amusing Arya and Sansa by joking of it; saying she could be ugly and that is why they refused to show her in the face of company. But despite his jest, he did worry. He worried for what she was like; cruel like Cersei? Or a crazed lunatic like Robert? Inane like Joffrey or sweet like Myrcella and Tommen?

He waited long to know until finally he was called aside.

Ned gave him a knowing look, his eyes glossed with a sheen of love and pride. Jon didn't know why he felt his chest swell, but he followed Robert with haste. The burly man led the way with ease, his form wobbly like a knotted rope, but he was firm and knew his way.

The room Jon was led to smelled of pine and lichen, like the mountains. His aunt Lysa smelled like that, if he remembered acutely. The smell of the Erye and the Vale. It settled his nerves somewhat; such a familiar smell.

He was surprised to see candles burning, and a sectioned chamber. At one end, past a lattice of rushes protecting a bedroom stood guard, though no men accompanied it. A few hustling servants scampered underfoot before retreating to their own rooms.

Jon shuffled on his feet, growing hot. This was it.

There was a slight cough, muffled by the screen, before a girl appeared.

She looked young, as Ned had promised. Her hair was dark cut short along her chin. Her eyes were a deep blue, complimenting the deep folding of a simple dress. Her frame was lithe, like Arya's, but also pretty and desirable like Sansa's. She was a happy medium, and at first he felt his eyes were mistaking him. He had been worrying, fearing the girl would be someone like Ros, not that he had much problem with her.

"M'lord," she bowed, her tresses rushing over the floor like rivulets of water.

Jon looked for words but could only nod. What was he thinking?

"Jon," Robert said happily, clapping his shoulder. "My eldest daughter, Mya Baratheon." He scowled for a bitter moment. "Dont let them rumors fool you, she aint no bastard. No more 'n you. She's as much a royal blood as you be, or Ned. She's all yours. Just save your wedding night for, you know, the wedding."

Jon shivered as Robert departed, leaving the two in silence.

"Your a Snow?" Mya suddenly asked, cutting the tension in half.

Jon stiffened. He opened his mouth but was cut off.

"Yes I heard what he said, but he was lying. Are you a Bastard? Jon Snow?"

He nodded turgidly and she laughed. "Good, because for a moment I was worried you would actually be someone _boring."_

"Boring?" Jon echoed. 

"So he does speak." She smiled. "And yes, _boring._ All those highborns and such. Afraid to get their hands dirty. Pitty really. They haven't seen war since Robert's Rebellion, and even then I hear they hid inside their walls while their men did all the work."

"Thats not true!" Jon protested.

She coughed then, something sickly and hurtful. Her face contorted before she grinned again. "Oh? Your father, the gallant Ned Stark. He picked up his Ice and hacked his way through men, sure enough. But did you see Cersei out there? Perhaps Catelyn?"

"Women don't fight," Jon said pointedly, leaning on a table. "A sword is a man's burden."

Mya snorted. "Tell that to Visenya or Rhaenys, or any Targaryen really. They fought, and guess what? They ended up ruling an entire realm!"

"They also married their younger brother."

She frowned. "Is that so wrong, Jon _Snow?"_

He bristled at that. "It is wrong. How would you like to marry Tommen?"

The women looked momentarily stricken but shook her head. "If it earned me a kingdom, perhaps. Though I'm not sure he would be adequate to my liking.."

"And what is your liking then?" The words fell from Jon's mouth before he could stop them and he instantly regretted them.

She took a step forward, though she still stood far away. "I like bastards for one, though all of my brothers spread across Westeros, from what I have met, are quite dull. Edric Storm, say. He has his nose in a book and shies away from swords. Imagine that? What about you, do you like swords?"

His hand went to the sword at his belt, though it was meek compared to Ice. Arya even had a better one, at his request. Needle. He envied that sword, so all he could do was nod.

She continued. "I like men who know what they are worth, no more, no less. I like men who arnt afraid to bloody or dirty their hands if it means keeping intact something they treasure. Though not the sort who do it for play. Like the Cleganes. Not them. Never them."

Jon smiled a little. "The Hound not to your liking? I hear burns are all the rage now."

Mya guffawed. "Gods no. I'm not sure who I'd be more afraid of, him in bed, or the child he would make."

The Stark stayed silent for a moment, the mood lightened. No, Mya was not what he had expected. Though she was guarded in more ways than one. He felt himself drawn to it, like a moth to light. It buzzed in his head all that night as he tried to sleep: the curiosity. She didn't seem too sick, he wondered what that was about.

 

***

 

Five days later he knew why.

Mya was around, yes, but she hadn't called on him since that first night. It set him down a path of meaningless wanderings, just lost in thought. They weren't focused on her, but instead on what she meant. Who was she?

She had never spoken of her bastardy, not overtly anyhow. Though he knew she was. Mya Stone, would she be?

The fifth night he got a request. A small note delivered by the Spider. Varys was quick and vitreous, yearning to see the event through.

So here Jon was, wearing simple leathers for bed and not knowing what was asked of him. He felt ridiculous, and also a bit embarrassed. He had taken little time to comb the tangle of black knots that where his hair from his sparring. Arya had said he looked better that way, but then again, she also said he looked good covered in flour from when they were little. (Though that was probably only because she liked the way it scared Sansa.)

"Hello, my _beloved,"_ Mya teased as she opened the door.

Jon's heart started pounding as he entered. But she indeed did look sick; pale and ghostly, as if _she_ was covered in flour. He frowned but her spirit still seemed to be at a peak, bubbly like the aftereffects of wine.

"M'lady," Jon replied curtly, looking around. There were no servants, no one there besides the thumping of the many dripping candles.

"Enough with formalities," she waved her hand. "I call you Jon Snow, and you call me Mya Stone. Its what I prefer anyway."

He nodded, biting his lip. "Are you alright?" He asked. "You look-"

"Like a ghost?"

"Yeah."

She nodded. "Maester Pycell called it Ghoul's Scourge, but really, I think its just a cold. At least.. I hope it is."

Jon watched as her features softened and she looked sad. It was the first break in her personality that he had seen. He hated it, he decided. It was like staring into a deep dark abyss after being trained to see stars. It made him truly want to help her.

"Is there a cure for this Ghoul's Scourge Cold?"

She cocked her head. "Well, it is called a _cold_ for a reason."

Before he knew it she had grabbed his wrist, intertwining their fingers. Gods she felt cold, just as she said. He stuttered on the words that died in his throat like thick tar, trying to find anything coherent to say. "W- what are you- what are we doing?"

She frowned, retracting her hand. "Whatever Jon Snow wishes, or will let me do." She paused. "Are you still a boy?"

He blinked a couple times. _Oh. OH._

"A- are you? A maiden I mean. Not a boy," A blush rose in his cheeks. 

She smirked devilishly. "No. No girl in the Vale is a maiden at this age." She shrugged. "It was pleasant, a little craving of mine."

Jon steadied himself with a calming breath. _No. I will not take her remaining purity, if she has any, before our wedding night._ Images of Theon popped into his head; the lewd things he used to say about whores and the like. He was a self proclaimed master of the 'art' or whoring, and thus Jon had heard far too many tales of pleasure and ecstasy. He had never seen Robb so red before then. And now, looking back, an idea dawned.

"You want to be warm," he said under his breath.

She nodded, seeming to feel empowered. A small part of him didn't want to let that happen; _he_ wanted to be in charge.

Her hands were still cold as she led him to the bed, sitting down with her legs open. (Whether this was intentional or not he couldn't dare to guess.)

"Well, Jon Snow, what do you know?"

"I know not to soil a woman's maidenhead before his wedding," she looked disappointed at that, frowning deeply. "But I also recognize when a damsel is in dire need of assistance."

Her smile returned before she shivered, away from the heat of the candles. A draft came in through the windows, even chilling the Northerner. When had it become so hot recently?

She laid down and he followed, seemingly of his own accord. His body acted on impulse rather than rationality, and he wondered what the gods would think of him. Though in truth many men had done worse, much, much worse. All he wanted to do was provide a bit of comfort, right?

Her kiss was slow at first, ginger like a fleeting bite of wind. Then it gained power as her teeth started to nip. He was afraid at first, not because he though she would hurt him, but because he feared he would hurt her. But gods it felt so _good._ Her tongue slipping along his lips until they parted, warring together in another clash.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging slightly. For the first time he realized she was quite weak, shivering every now and then, even brittle. He was afraid he might break her if he squeezed hard enough, but she showed no intentions of slowing down. Instead she moved forward, rocking her hips up to meet his.

His mind when blank as he felt a jolt of pleasure run up through his hips. He groaned, the sound passing into her mouth and she grinned again. His hands found her hips, trailing up and down in patterns of old runes. She seemed greedy for the touch, but when he started to get closer to her small things (bare underneath her dress), she coughed, turning away as her body shook and trembled.

"Sorry," she muttered before their gazes locked. She was red, though from blush or illness he couldn't tell. He captured her lips again before their parted and he started to nip at her collarbone. She smelled like sage, and it made him even hungrier. But this wasn't about him.

"Jon!" She squealed, sucking in a breath.

He found her pulse point and sunk his teeth in, finder her body slightly quavering underneath him.

"Enjoying yourself?" He smirked.

She huffed before lightly swatting at his head. He bit down harder causing her to whine, before making up with it for a few tender kisses, peppering them down until he reached the hem of her night dress. It took a minute to get it off, and she looked uncomfortable. Not from his gaze but from the cold. It bit her skin and she whimpered.

"Warm me up," she murmured, pulling his against her again.

He didn't say anything as he continued his work, trailing down her body until he reached the peaks of her breasts. She exhaled as he took one of her nipples in his mouth, finding a rythym to suck. It was straight and foreign to him, but also oddly pleasing. And her moans and whines sounded like sweet music to his ears.

"M-more," she begged, still shivering though from a different kind of ache.

He didn't quite know what she meant so be started to nip a little, earning a gasp. " _Fuck."_

Moving even farther down, across her pale tummy and towards her nether regions. He smelled her first, though it was still like sage. Something about her was _natural,_ more like Winterfell than King's Landing. She could have easily been born a Stark and fit in fine. 

Pulling down her small things proved a task which had her bucking her hips before he tossed them aside. She didn't seem to know what he was doing until he took that small nub in his mouth, sucking, _hard._ She mewled, bucking in his mouth as he held her hips down.

"Oh gods," she cried as he circled her entrance. She didn't taste sweet, but rather slightly salty and bitter. He didn't mind. It was another thing he found himself enjoying, despite the pangs in his breeches. Again, he had to remind himself, this wasn't about him.

Adding his tongue only made her whimper, clawing at the sheets as her thighs tightened around his head. He didn't know what he was doing, but also found a pattern that seemed to make her scream and cry out. he circled her and sucked, harder each time before he heard that "more" again. This time he grazed her bud with his teeth causing her to jump, groaning loudly. He didn't let up, raking his teeth, not hard, along her cunt.

Her hands found his hair, painfully pulling. Paying it no mind he continued, thinking back to what Theon had so torridly said. He tried something then, entering one finger. "Ahh!" She cried, rocking onto his finger, trying to devour it.

He smiled, adding a second and hearing her squirm and whimper. "J- Jon!" She cried. Taking that as a sign, he ambitiously added a third finger. "AHH!" She shrieked this time and he knew she was close. He sped up, pounding in and out of her, crossing his fingers and crooking them, sucking on her bud until he heard her scream.

It was so loud he fretted about who it would wake, and it made him painfully hard.

She came loud and fierce, like a storm, her juices flowing over his face. He lapped it up, the same salty-bitter taste that was as pleasant as sweet wine. She was trembling when he placed a few departing kisses around her thigh and came back up to look into her eyes.

Her breaths were heavy and scratchy, like sandpaper. But she looked at him with adoration, and, he realized, her skin was warmer. Slightly, not much but slightly.

"My _beloved,_ I do believe this marriage will be one with benefits."

He laughed despite himself, giggling and kissing her neck again. His breeches felt painfully tight though, and he squirmed restlessly.

She sensed this and laughed. "Need a bit of release, Snow?"

He nodded, unable to do much else.

"Well then, the night is young."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brevity is the soul of wit.. sure. Sorry I got carried away with this one XD I hope you like it though


End file.
